Amazingly, the waters here are almost free of other craft. Larger yachts tend to stay put on their moorings once they get here, or only venture into the main channels. This leaves the narrows and shallows, and some awesome rocks, to us small fry and the local boatmen. It's a select club. An experienced yachtsman - now a regular visitor with his daysailer - says: "I sail past reefs with the waves breaking over them, through tiny channels between rocks...... things that would have scared me silly a few years ago".

Even if you're a landlubber you can probably imagine the fun of taking an open boat around the North End in a running sea, or nosing through the rocks in a light summer's breeze, chart in hand ("I think we can make it, it's half-tide and there should be just enough water. Shout if you see anything and be ready to raise the centre-board").

Boy's Own Voyages

These are times when middle-aged men become teenagers again, and every voyage becomes a Boy's Own adventure. Perhaps you have to be middle-aged to appreciate losing thirty or forty years for an hour or two. Those of us brought up in the Ian Proctor school of dinghy sailing (circa late-1950s) know that the correct rig afloat is a sweater and a pair of shorts..... maybe two pairs of shorts in winter. Life jackets are of course de rigeur for everyone afloat, but I am not sure about the expensive yellow off-shore foul-weather designer gear. Clumsy to write, clumsy to wear. Looks good in the pub though.

Autumn Evenings.....

This year was not one of the best from a weather point of view. A wet June and a patchy August took a chunk out of the season for all but the most dedicated sailors (unless they had that expensive yellow off-shore foul-weather designer gear, of course). However, Spring and early summer was idyllic and so was September and parts of October. Quite often it is the two extreme ends of the season that provide some of the most memorable days on the water.

I remember a calm September evening after a warm afternoon spent on Samson. Reluctant to use the outboard, we were slowly coming home on the tide to New Grimsby. Suddenly we realised that - for a magic moment - the sunset had painted everything a rose-coloured pink. We floated, suspended in a rose-pink world.... the land, the sea, ourselves, and - so it seemed - the very air we breathed.

Only a few days later, on the other side of the island we had watched the sun go down over Borough Farm as we came up-channel to Old Grimsby, running before a gentle breeze. In the after-light of the sunset, with a partial cloud covering, the colours of Tresco were replaced by a gentle silver light that danced off the sea and filtered everything with a metallic silver sheen.... as beautiful and subtle as anything we had seen before.

A Happy Discovery and a Nasty Surprise

This was the year that I "discover-ed" Forman's Island - a tiny islet off Old Grimsby where a white sand beach lies exposed between low-water and half-tide and is perfectly positioned to view a summer sunset with a glass of chilled Chablis to hand. There are enough surprises to be discovered in a boat on Scilly to last a lifetime or two.

Some are not always pleasant. A late October storm - suddenly Force 10 and blowing from the East - came howling into the normally sheltered Old Grimsby harbour. It stayed for a long night, while my Cornish Coble that had carried me through the summer bucked and pulled at her mooring like a tethered horse in a stable fire.

In the morning, the mooring lug on the Coble had sheared, releasing the bob-stay, collapsing the rigging and bringing down the mast - but she had stayed safe, secured by a safety strop to her mooring, although with half the rigging over the side. When I got to her at low water, the strop was half-worn through after just three hours of chafing the fairleads.

An Island Solution

How do you recover a damaged daysailer on a beach in a Force 10? Easily, if it's on Tresco. Within quarter of an hour Nick Shiles arrived in the JCB, Harbourmaster Henry Birch followed on a flat-bed trailer behind a tractor driven by brother Eddie. Webbing strops were placed fore and aft under the hull, and attached to the teeth of the JCB bucket. The Coble was swung up and gently placed on the flat-bed. Total time spent on the beach.... under five minutes. After close inspection, the Coble was little the worse for wear - and the mooring lug will be replaced with a heavy-duty version. Next time I will remember to raise the extra safety stay which would have kept the rigging secure when the bob-stay broke.

The right boat for you

For me, the Coble is perfect - it is simply a large, safe dinghy into which one can fit a family. Unballasted, with a traditional loose-footed standing-lug rig, she can nose onto a beach and be manhandled in a few inches of water. Great for picnics - but a boat in which a Force 4 can seem like a serious gale.